Family Affairs
by Aerenii
Summary: Richard and Kathleen are happy with their new life.  But can it last?  Rated M for language, violence, maybe sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This starts about 3 months after _Beyond the Darkness _ends. I'm not entirely sure where this one will be going. I got this idea last night while I was outside, and just had to share it. So if it takes me a little time to get more of this up, I apologize. As soon as I come up with a plot, I'll write it. Also, I really wanted to put Owen Slater in this, but have no use for a travel-weary IRA lackey, so I've just completely given him a new history (well, he is still Irish). Also kinda played with his age a bit. (Maybe? Not entirely sure how old he's supposed to be in the show.) **

Chapter 1

When Kathleen said that her family wanted to come visit for Christmas, Richard was a bit apprehensive, but excited none the less. He couldn't wait to meet the people who were so important to the woman he loved more than life itself. He just didn't quite realize what he was in store for.

Jean arrived in town first, with her husband Carl and their four sons.

"Pleasure to finally meet you!" Carl boomed, shaking Richard's hand so hard Richard thought his arm was about to fall off. Carl was a short, stocky man with a receding hair line and rosy cheeks. "Jean's told me a lot about you. I got to agree with her, you must be something special to get Kathleen to settle down!"

"You always agree with me, dear," Jean said as she hugged Richard, "because I'm always right."

"That you are, my plum," Carl replied with a wide grin. "Where's Kathleen?"

"I'm coming," Kathleen replied as she waddled towards the group. "I'm in the 'going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes' stage of pregnancy." She hugged her brother-in-law, then her twin sister. She hugged David and Edward, Jean's older sons, and spent a good five minutes cooing at the five month old twins, Richard and Stephen.

"Gracious, Kathleen," Carl said, looking at his sister-in-law's round belly. "You're big enough to be birthing a litter!"

"I know," Kathleen sighed. "I haven't seen my feet in a month..."

"Twins," Jean said knowingly. "That's exactly how I looked when I was six months along, last time."

Kathleen looked over at Richard, who had a happy twinkle in his eye. The Harrows had discussed the possibility that Kathleen might be having twins. Richard was thrilled at the thought.

"I'm not disputing...oh...excuse me. Bathroom time again!" Kathleen hurried as well as she could back down the hallway. Richard watched her go, a contended smile on his face.

"Is there someplace I can settle the boys down for a nap?" Jean asked Richard. He nodded. "Good," Jean replied. "Let me do that, then we'll give you a quick overview of our family."

Sitting in the living room a few minutes later, Richard listened to Kathleen and Jean list their siblings, their families, and little tidbits of information about each one. Richard listened, and began to wonder what he had agreed to as he realized there would be at least forty people at his house for Christmas dinner.

"It's not a family," Carl said said a laugh when the sisters finished the family run-down. "It's a small nation!"

_Carl was right, _Richard found himself thinking a few days later as his house was invaded by the Gallagher clan. There were children of various ages all over the place. Adults sat where they could, some being climbed upon by some of the younger children. Luke and Mildred Gallagher, the two with whom this happy chaos first started, sat on the davenport, beaming with pride as their children, grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren moved about in an intricate flow. Hugs here, laughter-filled conversations there, occasionally good natured arguments popped up as well.

Kathleen was in the kitchen, having shooed everyone who offered to help away. Jean moved over to Richard's side and slipped her arm through his.

"It's a right mess, isn't it?" she asked with a smile. Richard smiled back and replied "It is, mm. But it's. Wonderful." And it was. For someone who came from a small family, where holidays were very quiet affairs, this was a treat for Richard. This was the kind of thing he dreamed about during those lonely days in the veterans' hospital but never expected to come true.

"Are you having any trouble remembering who's who?" Jean asked.

"Not, mm, the adults. I admit, I am not. Quite sure which. Mm, child is which. Or who they belong to."

"That's okay. The rest of aren't sure either. But I guess it's alright...as long as we know which one are ours...Oh, David! How many times have I told you not to climb the curtains!" Jean rushed off to get her oldest son down from the window dressings. Richard continued to watch his new family. Benjamin was in a deep conversation with Carl and Francine's husband Joseph. Henry was hovering over his wife, who's real name was Anne but everyone called Doll, not only to avoid confusion with Anne Gallagher (now Slater), but because her delicate frame and porcelain like completion made her resemble a China doll. Doll was also nearly six months pregnant, but was having a much rougher time of it than Kathleen was.

In the corner, John Slater, the husband of Kathleen's oldest sister, was in a deep discussion with Gregory and John's oldest son, Owen. Anne, Francine, Ingrid and Edith were sitting on the floor with four young children crawling between them. Richard knew one of the toddlers was Anne's granddaughter (they had custody of her as the baby's parents, Anne's daughter and son-in-law, were killed in a car accent shortly after the baby's birth.) The other three belonged to Francine, Ingrid, and Edith, but Richard wasn't sure which baby went with which Gallagher.

He leaned against the wall and smiled to himself as he watched this wonderful group of people. He was quite content to contemplate how lucky he was to have met and married such a wonderful woman who came from this large family when he felt a tug on his pants. Looking down, he found a young girl, about five years old, with large blue eyes, curly red hair, and a light smattering of freckles similar to her aunts' staring up at him.

"Unca Richard?" she said. "Will you read to me?" She held a book up in front of her. When Richard saw the title, he couldn't help but smile. It was _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, _by L. Frank Baum. It seemed so long ago that he had told another adorable little girl, her older brother, and their kind mother that he was the Tin Woodsman.

"Mm, yes," Richard said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. The little girl climbed right into his lap, handed him the book, and laid her head against his shoulder.

"Mm, am I right. That you're Kit?" he asked. The little girl looked at him and nodded. Kit, who's real name was Kathleen, after her aunt, was Gregory's youngest child. (At least, Richard thought she was Gregory's. She could have been Henry's).

Richard opened the book and began reading, but he didn't get past the third sentence before Kit looked back at him and said "Mamma said you got a bad owwie when you were fighting the Germies. And that you hafta wear the mask, 'cause it's like a bandage." Richard nodded. "Oh. Didn't your mamma kiss it to make it feel better? That's what my mamma does whenever I get an owwie."

"It's, mm. A very bad owwie," Richard replied. "Besides. My mamma wasn't there. When I got it."

"Oh," Kit said. With a tenderness that would've stirred even the real Tin Woodsman's heart, she leaned her little face in and kiss the cheek of the tin mask that hid his damaged face. "Better?" she asked brightly. Richard smiled.

"Better," he said.

"Good," Kit said, settling herself back against Richard's chest. "Read, please?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kathleen moved around the kitchen humming a happy little tune. Everything seemed to be going well. She had been a little nervous about how her family would initially react to Richard. Sure, she knew they would accept him; he was the man she loved and had decided to spend the rest of her life with. But at first glance, how would they react? Especially the children? She had called all the siblings and explained that Richard was a wounded war veteran. 'Yes, it was severe. He wears a half mask to cover the damage. Would you mind terribly preparing the children as best you can?' They all understood, and all agreed to warn the children. And the children seemed to take it fairly well.

As each family shuffled in the front door, arriving by taxi from the various hotels they were staying at, Richard found himself hugged by the women, hand shook by the men, greeted by children in their most mannerly fashion. Kathleen smiled as he looked torn between panic and joy. All these people, paying so attention to him, but all of them genuinely pleased to meet him.

Kathleen smiled to think of it as she rinsed the potatoes.

"Sit down and peel those," her mother said, walking into the kitchen. "You've been on your feet long enough. I'll take care of the stove."

Kathleen wasn't about to argue with her mother, since her back was sore and her feet were killing her. _At least I know they're still there, even if I can't see them, _she mused as she sat down and started peeling potatoes.

Her mother moved to the stove and stirred the pots that were simmering, adjusting heat as need be. When she was satisfied all was going well, she sat down at the table with Kathleen, and quartered the potatoes Kathleen peeled.

"How have you been feeling?" her mom asked as they worked. "Besides tired and humongous?"

"Oh, there's bloated, ungainly, off-balance..." Kathleen's eyes crinkled, and the grin she'd been trying to suppress finally broke free. "Mom, at the risk of sounding like a silly school girl...I never thought I could feel this happy...this satisfied. Everything is...so...so...indescribably wonderful that I can't even explain it. It's like, I don't know...I guess I finally found something that I didn't know I was missing." She slid a freshly peeled potato over to her mother as she searched for the words. "Every time he looks at me, or says my name, or brushes his fingers across the back of my hand. Oh, Mom, have you seen his hands? They're so strong, but gentle. Long beautiful fingers..." Kathleen gave a small laugh. "What has that man done to me, that I'm gushing over his hands to my mother?"

Mildred laughed and covered one of Kathleen's hands. "He's made you happy, dear. He's made you fall in love. Trust me, your sisters sounded the same when they were first married. Although it wasn't their husbands' hands they were going into detail about." Mildred gave Kathleen a wink, then continued. "The important thing is, will you still feel like this ten years from now? Twenty? Anne and John, who've been married for over twenty years, seem to still have a spark of it, but it's cooled down to more of a smolder. Then there's Christopher and Ruth, who barely speak to each other anymore. I have a feeling though, you and Richard...well, you've both obviously seen more than all of your siblings put together, understand each other on a very deep level...Jean said your courtship, while brief, was quite eventful..." _Well if that isn't a hint, _Kathleen thought, _I don't know what is._

"Richard saved my life three times in two weeks," Kathleen said, recapping it all. "And he gave up the man who he considered his best friend, a man who saved him from a lonely, probably short life, in a veterans' hospital, to be with me. He doesn't talk about it, but I think he really misses Jimmy. I don't know. Richard said that was all in the past, and all he's concerned about is our future together."

"Does he, ah...have issues?" Kathleen spent a long moment contemplating her answer as she slowly peel another potato. She knew why her mother was asking, it was nothing but concern. But how could she explain it?

"Mom, everyone who was there, soldiers, medics, even the support staffs, we all have issues...sometimes, there'll be a loud noise, and my first instinct is to drop to the ground, thinking artillery shells are going to begin raining down on me again. I still have nightmares about long lines of bloody, mangled soldiers being carted into the surgical tent...I run around frantically, trying to stop this one's blood loss, stitch that one's arm back on, removing shrapnel. But no matter how fast I move, or what I do to help them, they all die..." Kathleen felt tears welling in her eyes, and had to shake her head to compose herself. "I'm sorry, Mom. I...maybe it's because I'm pregnant and overly emotional, but I...I just can't talk about this."

"I'm sorry dear," Mildred replied. " I shouldn't have pried. I know you fell in love with Richard just as he is, and you usually display good judgment."

"It's okay. I understand and appreciate your concern..."

"But Christmas dinner is not the time for sad thoughts," Mildred said, "so we will move on to happy things! Have you and Richard figured out what you're going to name the babies?"

"Oh, you're assuming it's twins, too?"

"Dear, you look like a dirigible, only without the lighter than air grace. Of course it's twins." Kathleen laughed, then said "We've been tossing around some ideas. We're thinking Elias James if it's a boy. Richard is keen on Margaret Pearl if it's a girl."

"I think that's what Henry and Doll are planning if their's is a girl."

"Well, I'll just have to go into labor first then," Kathleen said with a laugh. She put the last potato in the pile in front of her mother, then slowly and awkwardly raised herself to her feet. She grabbed the pot she was going to cook the potatoes in, and once she'd loaded them all into it, filled it with water and put it on the stove to boil. Kathleen and her mother worked side by side in the kitchen finishing dinner. Eventually Anne and Jean wandered in, and started setting the table. Sadly, they were going to have to eat in shifts. There just wasn't enough room for everyone to eat all at once.

When Gregory's wife, Madeline, went to get Kit to have her eat with the first group, Kit wrapped her arms tightly around Richard's neck and stated "I wanna eat with Unca Richard."

"But sweetie," Madeline said calmly, "your brothers and sisters are eating now, and so are Daddy and I."

"I wanna eat with Unca Richard."

"Unca Richard," Richard croaked, "can't breathe." Kit loosened her arms and mumbled an apology. "You should. Listen to your mother," he told the child. "She. Knows what's, mm, best for you."

"But I..." Kit fell silent when Richard sternly looked at her. She sighed and stood up, obediently following her mother into the kitchen.

"Now how did you do that?" Gregory asked, offering his hand to help Richard stand.

"Do. What?"

"Get Kit to do something she didn't want to do without her pitching a fit?"

"Mm. I do a. Good impersonation of...the Tin Woodsman." Richard held up the book.

"She does love that story," Gregory mused. "Be careful, before she becomes convinced that this is Oz and tries to move in with you."

Richard smiled and tried to think of an appropriate reply when Jean came out of the dining room.

"Has anyone seen David?" she asked loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Calls of no and not recently filled the air.

"I see the little bugger," Owen said, looking down the hallway. "He seems to be on top of the wardrobe there."

Jean looked in the direction Owen was pointing and gave a strangled scream. "David Andrew Schlensker! What do you think you're doing up there!"

" Oh, hi Mamma," David said from the top of the armoire.

"Don't you 'hi Mamma' me." Jean said putting her hands on her hips to keep herself from snatching her son down and wringing his neck. "What are you doing up there?"

"I saw something up here and wondered what it was." He held up a not-quite-oval shaped piece of metal with two leather straps attached to each side. When Richard saw it, a small sound, somewhere between a whine and a groan, involuntarily escaped from his throat.

"David," Kathleen said, stepping up beside Richard and placing a soothing hand on his arm. "Please put that back where you found it, and get down from there."

"But what is it?" David asked.

"It's a..." Richard started, but wasn't sure how to explain it. Telling the story of sitting in a blind for three days before putting a bullet an inch below the former owner's right eye was not a story for the younger children. But thankfully, Kathleen came up with an explanation.

"That's something Richard keeps to honor the men he faced during the war," she said gently. "All the men who fought, no matter what country they were from, fought for what they believed was right. There is something very noble about fighting for your country. Even though we didn't agree with the Germans, we recognize that they were very brave." She looked at Richard with a loving look and finished with "All the young men who fought were very brave." Richard thanks her silently with his eye as he slipped his hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Ew! Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Richard are getting all sappy!" one of the teenage nephews said with exaggerated disgust. It made the adults laugh, and did well to relieve the tension. Children were shooed back to the kitchen to finish eating. As soon ad David climbed down, he was taken to a bedroom and spanked, although when he reemerged he looked nowhere near contrite.

Once everyone had eaten, the children started clamoring about going out to play in the snow. Some of the older kids volunteered to go out, and a few of the dads were cajoled into bundling up as well.

"C'mon Unca Richard!" Kit cried, running up to Richard and tugging on his hand. "Come play in the snow." Richard tried to protest, a task he found difficult when more of his new nieces and nephews ran up and began tugging on him, begging him to come out and play. He knew he was defeated when Kathleen carried his coat, scarf and hat over to him.

"Bundle up, dear," she said with a smile and a kiss. He slid into his coat and buttoned it up, then put his hat on while Kathleen wrapped his scarf snuggly and tugged it into his jacket. She planted on more kiss on the corner of his mouth, then gave him a small shove from behind, calling "Go easy on him kids!" as he was towed away.

Kathleen laughed and went back into the kitchen to help with the clean up.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The women all gathered in the kitchen for clean-up. Kathleen and Doll were told to sit, and were given towels and the freshly washed dishes to dry. Left-overs were stored, dishes put away, and coffee put on to boil.

Anne sat down next to Kathleen and handed her youngest sister a cup of tea.

"Can I talk to you a second?" Anne asked. "It about Owen."

"Is everything okay?" Kathleen asked. She didn't know Anne's children very well, the family lived in Ireland, where John ran a large wool mercantile, and it was only on very special occasions that they made the crossing. This was the first Christmas the Slaters had spent in America since Anne married John, and the first time they'd been back to the country since Jean's wedding almost seven years ago. But still, her oldest nephew was quite charming.

"Oh, fine," Anne said, stirring her coffee. "Owen said he doesn't really want to return home. He's become enchanted with the horses we saw on the way in. John and I agree he's old enough to make this decision, but we're still worried parents. If he does decide to stay here, would you mind keeping an eye on him? It's just...he's so young..." 

Kathleen snorted and pointed out that Owen was actually a month older than she was.

"Well, yes," Anne said. "But you've got common sense. Owen is so impulsive sometimes. Like this suddenly decided he wants to stay here..."

"Of course we'll keep an eye on him," Kathleen said. "I'm sure he'll agree, but I'll talk to Richard about Owen staying with us until he can find a place of his own."

"Thank you," Anne said. "It will do us good to know someone is nearby if he needs anything."

Talk around the table turned to children and husbands, soon incredibly exaggerated tales of the husbands' prowess, or idiocy, were flying, and the ladies of the Gallagher clan were laughing so hard they were crying.

And that was how the men and the children who'd been outside found them, red faced, breathless with laughter, and as soon as the women looked at the men, they were sent into another fit of giggles. Richard looked at Kathleen, slightly puzzled. Carl clapped him on the shoulder and said "Get used to it, my friend. These ladies get like this every time they're in a group. If you've by chance got some whiskey hidden somewhere, we menfolk can retire to another room and form our own giggling gaggle."

"Oh!" Ingrid said, waving her hands frantically at Carl. "Get Vinnie drunk and get him to do that weird drunk laugh thing he does! Richard hasn't seen it yet."

Carl laughed. "You are evil, Ingrid! Wanting to embarrass your husband like that!" Ingrid slid on evil grin onto her face and shrugged. "You must admit, it is highly entertaining."

"Oh, it is, as the whole house will hear before long. Come on, Richard. Male bonding time." Richard followed Carl , but before leaving the kitchen, stopped by Kathleen's chair. She looked up at him, noticed that his cheeks and ears were flushed from the cold, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a happy smile on his lips. She smiled back at him, and straighted up a bit as he bent down. Their lips met briefly. Richard tenderly placed his hand on the side of her neck.

His ice cold hand.

He backed away quickly as she shrieked and playfully swatted at him.

"That's," he said with a chuckle. "For all those times. You put, your cold feet. In the backs of my knees."

Kathleen just stuck her tongue out at him, then she gave a soft smile and said "I love you."

"I. Love you too," Richard replied as he backed out of the kitchen after his brothers-in-law.

Richard pulled out a decanter and twelve glasses, filling and passing each one out. When they all had some bourbon in hand, Luke Gallagher said "Well, son, it's your house, so you give the first toast."

"Just make sure it's better than Joseph's," Gregory said. "I believe his first toast was 'Let's get drunk, boys.'"

"It summed up the moment well," Joseph said in his defense. "But, let's see what the new guy has." He motioned for Richard to continue.

Richard looked at the eleven other men in the room, the men who were so important to his wife...the men who knew her when she was little, the men who helped make her the extraordinary woman he loved. With a small nod to himself, he set his glass on the table behind him, then reached up and slowly removed his mask. Although he wasn't looking at them, he could tell the men had tensed slightly, wondering.

"This," Richard said as he looked up the male half of his new family, "is what your daughter, mm, your sister, fell in love with. They say. Christmas is a time for miracles. And love. This time, last year. I wouldn't have argued, but only because. I didn't care. There was. No reason for me too, mm. But having met Kathleen, I, mm, see how wrong I was." He paused, trying to find the words but failing. "It seems that. There should be...something more eloquent. To say, but as. I'm drawing a blank, I. Will quote a wise man," he nodded to Joseph and finished with "Let's get drunk, boys."

"I'll drink to that!" Luke said raising his glass. The rest followed suit and upended their tumblers (well, Richard rapidly drank his bourbon through his straw, but it was the same effect) and calls for refills rang out.

It was two hours before the men of the Gallagher clan stumbled drunkenly back to join the rest of the family, laughter mixing with the sounds of jovial back slaps.

Luke Gallagher sought out Kathleen's eyes, and when he caught them, gave a small nod to her. His way of saying she'd done well.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I apologize if these chapter seems rather random. One of those instances where the characters just took of on me. I really do love the name Odette, by the way. (P.S. I've you haven't seen the 4th episode of the 2nd season, please do not read the post note, as it contains a spoiler.)**

Chapter 4

It was after midnight when the last of Kathleen's family had been picked up and taken back to their hotels by taxi. Once everyone was gone, Kathleen took Richard's hand and led him back to the kitchen.

"Sit down, Mr. Harrow," she said in a tone that, while playful, gave no room for argument. " I know full well you didn't eat at all tonight."

Richard cast a sheepish glance her way, but sat down. Kathleen went about putting a plate together for him.

"Why did. Every one of your sisters, mm, sisters-in-law, _and _your mother. Show a sudden interest. In my hands?" he asked, somewhat proud that, for as drunk as he was, his words weren't slurred.

Kathleen, who wasn't entirely sober herself, laughed. "Oh, I'm sure if I told you, you'd be mightily embarrassed."

"Try me," he said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands.

"Well," Kathleen said dramatically as she put the plate in the oven to warm, "I told them that your hands are beautiful, and that you do fantastic things with them. Like how you run them..."

Richard did feel himself blushing as Kathleen told him the fantastic things he did to her with his hands, and wondered if she really had this conversation with the other ladies.

But, given the conversations he'd had with the men in her family, and knowing how close Kathleen's family was in general, he realized she probably did.

"Just be glad," she concluded, "they didn't show a sudden interest in other parts of your body." She winked at him, then turned to the oven and pulled out the plate. She moved the food to a cool plate, grabbed a fork, and brought them to the table and set them down in front of Richard.

"Thank you," he said as she sat down next to him. He ate, realizing as soon as the first forkful hit his mouth that he was starving. He finished the plate in no time, and gave serious consideration to the slice of cake Kathleen offered, but decided against it. He watched her as she washed the dishes, then took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

Laying together in bed, her head resting on his shoulder, Kathleen approached the subject of Owen staying with them until he found a place to stay. Richard thought it over for a moment, then agreed, saying that, perhaps Owen might stay until the baby (or babies) was born. That way, Richard pointed out, he didn't have to worry about Kathleen being home alone while he was at work and suddenly going into labor.

"Are you sure," Richard asked, "That it's just because. Owen likes it here?"

"What makes you ask that?" Kathleen asked in a voice growing heavy with sleep.

"Just...ah, never mind, love. Go to sleep." He kissed her temple "I love you."

"Love you too," she murmured, snuggling against his chest. It wasn't long before she was asleep, but Richard, who by rights should have been asleep himself, was busy thinking about the snippet of conversation he'd heard between Owen and his father, John. _"Ye'd better hope she says yes, b'y, or by the laird, I'll do whatever I must ta keep ye from yer new '_friends'" Richard thought that's what John had said, at any rate, the Irishman's accent had thickened considerably as he got drunk. At while it hadn't made any sense at the time, Richard now wondered if 'she' was Kathleen, and if so, who these 'new friends' were that John was intent on keeping Owen away from.

Richard was still mulling this a few hours later when Kathleen stirred. He held his breath, hoping she was just making herself more comfortable, but after a few moments, her eyes fluttered open.

"You okay?" Richard asked quietly.

"Someone's awake and kicking me in the ribs."

Richard laid his hand on his wife's stomach. He loved feeling the movement, was simply amazed that there was life forming in there. As he often did when the baby was active and Kathleen couldn't sleep because of it, he shifted himself to lay his cheek on her belly, then began humming "Is There Still Room For Me 'neath The Old Apple Tree", which always seemed to calm the kicking.

"You know," Kathleen mused "we need to come up with another set of names. We're fine if they're a boy and a girl, although I'm still not sold on Margaret. But what if it's two boys, or two girls?"

"You're. Finally convinced... it's twins?" Richard said.

"Well, there's one foot poking me in the ribs, and one foot kicking my bladder. Since I don't think I've got a contortionist in there, I'm leaning towards twins. Besides, Mom and Jean both agree, and they've been through it before."

"Why don't. You like the name, mm. Margaret?"

"Because it gets shortened to Peggy and Peggy makes me think of a peg-legged pirate. I still don't see why you don't want to go with Richard for a boy."

"Because Jean already... used it. I thought. We were going to try...to come up with names that. Your brothers and sisters. Hadn't already used?"

"Which is why I like Elias..." Kathleen paused, about to say that she didn't quite get Richard's idea of James as a middle name, since Jimmy had turned his back on Richard, but she held her tongue. She supposed she ought to be thankful to Jimmy for bringing Richard out of that veteran's hospital in Chicago, because if she hadn't, she would never have met Richard. But still...

"We've still got. A few months. To think about it," Richard said soothingly. "Why don't you get... some sleep now?"

"Because I really have to go to the bathroom."

* * *

><p>The next morning, as Richard and Kathleen were getting ready to meet her family at church, Kathleen said "You muttered the perfect name in your sleep last night!"<p>

"I did?" Richard asked, puzzled. "Yours, right?"

"No, silly! You said 'Odette'. I love it!"

"Ah. Um...no."

"Why not? It's a beautiful name, and none of the others have used it."

Richard tried hard to think about what he had dreamed about last night that he would have said Odette's name. It wasn't the dream on the beach. He hadn't had that one since he'd met Kathleen. Did he dream of having sex with Odette?

"Are you okay, Richard?" Kathleen asked when she saw his face contort with concentration.

"I'm. Fine. Just... I don't think. You want to name our child Odette."

"Oh? And why wouldn't I?" she asked playfully as she fixed the knot in his tie.

"Odette. Was a whore. In Chicago that Jimmy arranged for me. To have sex with. She. Was my first..."

"Oh. I see."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm, mm, not really sure. But when. I was young, whenever. My mother said 'Oh, I see.' My father would apologize."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Kathleen said. "I just really like the name Odette. But, if you think it would be awkward to name our baby after the prostitute you lost your virginity to, I understand."

"Awkward,mm isn't quite it." he reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, then trailed his fingers down the side of her face, caressed her cheek with his thumb. He found himself falling into her eyes, the color of a summer sky at it's deepest blue. He wondered if that was what eternity was like, endless, warm, comforting blue.

He couldn't say he knew Odette. Odette probably wasn't even her real name. But there would always be a special place in his heart for her even thought she had only been one small hour in his life.

But Kathleen, she was the rest of it. There was no censure in her voice, no disgust, no condemnation that he'd been with a hooker. And she didn't seem at all concerned that he'd said another woman's name in his sleep. She knew he wasn't perfect, knew that there were so many shadows and secrets to his past. But she agreed with him that the past was the past, and while she sometimes burned with curiosity and ached with concern when she knew he was brooding on it, she never asked. He knew she would listen if he ever needed to talk.

And sometime, he did. He sensed there were more cracks in the cold wall of nothing that had surrounded him since the war appearing every day. One night, shortly after Kathleen hold told him she was pregnant, he woke up sobbing uncontrollably, having dreamed of killing the youngest D'Alessio brother, a boy barely into his teens, who had held help up his hands and dropped the gun he'd been holding. A gun he was shaking to severely to even use. Richard had just shot him in the face. Kathleen had woken up, wrapped her arms around him, and held him while he cried and finally talked about it. There was nothing she could say, Richard just needed to voice the reality of it, the realization that what he had done was so wrong, so cold, so inhuman.

Or the night, back when the first chill of winter touched the air... Richard had tossed a new log onto the fire. The flames flared, and the heat washed over his face. Suddenly he was thrown back in time, and he was laying on the ground, screaming, clutching his face, the metal shards digging in, shredding his skin, a pain so excruciating he felt like the left side of his face and throat were on fire.

Wrapped in his relived agony, he was barely aware of the strong hands on his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. Could barely register the soothing voice, certainly didn't understand the words. He writhed and screamed, felt the blood running, didn't feel his arms being forced to his side until he felt a small pinch on the inside of his elbow.

Relief finally came, and he was able to register the words spoken in a calm, soothing, tear choked voice. When he was finally able to, he opened his eye. He was disoriented at first, expecting to see a hospital ceiling, instead seeing a living room ceiling...his living room ceiling, he realized. He slowly turned his head to the right, then to the left. He saw Kathleen. Her face was tear-streaked, but she had a professional air about her. She was kneeling on one arm, and was holding the other by the wrist, checking his pulse. When she was done, she looked down at him and asked "Are you back with me?" He nodded slowly. "Okay. Stay here. I'll be right back." She hurried into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water and a damp towel. She helped him sit up, and handed him the glass of water. At first, he didn't think he'd be able to drink it, his hands were trembling so much. But he managed eventually, taking deep breaths in between. Kathleen gently dabbed his face with the towel. He had managed to tear his mask off and clawed at his face, leaving bloody scratches.

She leaned in and whispered "I love you", kissing the mangled side of his face.

"Thank you," he had whispered back.

* * *

><p>"You really,. Like Odette, as a name?" he said, still gazing into her eyes.<p>

"Yes, but I understand..."

"Odette was, quite the patriot. In her own way," Richard said, his face completely straight. "You've considered. Margaret for me. Mm. I will consider Odette, for you."

* * *

><p><strong>P.S. Okay, I'm sure it's just me because this is my story and all, but I find it oddly ironic that Richard turned out to be a twin!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: More super-sappy, happy Harrow-ness! I'm sure I'll eventually come up with something that resembles an interesting plot for this.**

**Hamburg Place Farm is now pretty much gone, sold to land developers and turned into one of the most poorly designed shopping centers (seriously, it's almost impossible to get out of there due to the stupid placement of medians and parking logs), and cookie-cutter housing developments. Also, please forgive my poor attempt at an Irish brogue. Just imagine the words lilting off Owen's tongue, and how lovely it sounds.**

Chapter 5

The week between Christmas and New Year's saw Kathleen's family taking their leave. Jean, Carl and their kids were the last to depart. Owen was more than thrilled to live with Kathleen and Richard for as long as they would have him, completely understanding Richard's logic about not wanting Kathleen alone as her due date approached. A new semester started at the university, and Richard soon found himself busy with preparing lectures and grading papers. He truly loved his job, although he'd been very hesitant at first about getting up in front of a class and lecturing. But he soon found himself completely immersed in it, and judging by the fact that his class sizes doubled from the first semester he'd taught, apparently the students enjoyed it as well.

Kathleen began the task of trying to hire someone to help around the house and with the children, once they were born. Finding just the right someone was more difficult than she had expected. She interviewed dozens of applicants, whittled it down to four that she invited back for a second interview with both her and Richard. The first lady said that she didn't think she would feel comfortable living in their house like they wanted. The second lady went crazy when she met Richard and started yelling how immoral it was to kill people, even if it was 'in the line of duty', and that only Almighty God should decided who died and when. She called Richard a cold, heartless murdered (which Richard couldn't exactly dispute) and informed him he would suffer the fires of hell for all eternity for his sins (which Richard, again, couldn't exactly dispute). It was Kathleen who took offense, shooting to her feet...more of a ponderous rising, really, and told the woman to get out of her house before she...

"Leave," Richard told the woman, placing a restraining hand on Kathleen's arm while Kathleen glowered at the woman. "My wife, mm. Wants to kill you and I. Don't want her... to go to hell. Over you."

The woman left, saying spitefully that the Harrows were evil and the Good Lord would set a curse upon their heads. It took an hour for Richard to get Kathleen to calm down after that.

The third candidate seemed overly fascinated with Richard, never once taking her eyes from him, frequently moving her head as if she were trying to see what was under his mask. Throughout the entire interview, she completely ignored Kathleen. Richard thanked her for her time, but said he and Kathleen didn't think she would fit their needs. When the woman replied 'Maybe there are other needs of yours I can fit?' in a tone that Richard thought would make even a hardened whore blush, Kathleen all but dragged the woman out of the house.

The last candidate was a rather sweet girl. Although she had just turned twenty-one, she had been in service for almost six years, and the last family she worked for had three young children that she had helped tend to.

"I was very sad when they moved," she admitted. "They asked if I would come with them, but California is so far away!"

"Do you. Have family here?" Richard asked.

"Yes, sir. My father is one of the horse trainers at Hamburg Place Farm, and my mother is a school teacher."

"Can I ask. How you feel. About war veterans?" Kathleen snorted and had to hide a smile behind her hand.

"Oh, well, that's rather an odd question. But I admire what they did. I had...well, let's see, he was my mother's sister's husband's brother's son, I guess that doesn't really make him a relative but he was only a few years older than me and we were close. Anyway, he fought in the war. He...he didn't come back."

"Oh," Kathleen said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

The Harrows spent a few more minutes talking to her, then assured her they'd let her know their decision soon. Kathleen walked her to the door, thanked her again for coming by, and opened the door, just as Owen was about to open it.

"Hello, Aunt Kathleen," Owen said is his lilting Irish accent. "Ma'am," he said, doffing his hat. "Owen Slater."

"Meagan McCann," she replied.

" 'Tis a pleasure t'meet ye," he said, smiling brightly. He stepped to the side of the door and extended his arm, inviting Meagan out. "May I walk ye to th' gate?"

"I'd be delighted," Meagan replied, her eyes wide and slightly dazed. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Harrow," she said almost an after thought as she went down the walkway with Owen at her side. Kathleen shook her head and shut the door. Richard was leaning against the wall, a small smile on his face.

"I guess. Owen endorses her," he said.

"Judging by how thickly he laid on the charm and the accent, I'd say so." Kathleen kneaded the muscles of her lower back and said "I like her. What about you?" Richard nodded, then held his hand out to Kathleen. "Come sit down."

"I've got to start dinner."

"You need, mm. To relax." He led her to the living room and sat her down on the couch. When he saw the look of relief on her face, he gave a satisfied _Mm-hmm_ and told her to put her feet up. She looked at him skeptically but listened. Richard sat down at her feet and removed her shoes. Then he began rubbing her feet and ankles, his strong fingers deftly working out the general cramps and aches that came with pregnancy. Kathleen couldn't help but moan as his thumb worked on a particularly sore spot in the arch of her foot.

"Interruptin' somethin', am I?" Owen asked as he walked into the room, an impish grin on his face.

"Be gone, leprechaun," Kathleen said with a shooing motion. "My beloved husband is in the middle _aaahhh..._of pampering me."

"Certainly sounds like it," Owen chuckled. "I'll leave ye be then, ta _pamper _each other."

"Remind me to hit you went I get back up."

"Is that any way ta talk ta yer favorite nephew?" he asked with mock indignation.

"I've got fifteen or twenty other nephews. What makes you think you're my favorite?"

"And why wouldn't I be?" Kathleen laughed, and Richard chuckled. Owen disappeared somewhere, and Richard continued to massage her feet.

"I'm going to fall asleep if you keep this up."

"What if, mm. That's the point?" He kept rubbing, working his way up her ankles and calf muscles. It didn't take her long to doze off. Richard gently covered her with a light throw blanket, and went into the kitchen to start on dinner.

Kathleen woke up about an hour later and stretched, trying to figure out what smelled so good. She quietly walked to the kitchen and looked in. Richard was at the stove, stirring something.

"So what's for dinner?" she asked, unable to hide her amused smile. He looked awfully cute when he was being so domestic.

"Pork chops, mm. And potatoes."

"It smells wonderful. How come you never mentioned you could cook?"

"You. Mm, never asked."

"To be honest, I figured if you could cook, it would be trench food. And I got enough of stews made with questionable meat and copious amounts of mud to last me a lifetime, thank you."

"My questionable. Meat mud stew, mm, is actually good."

Kathleen hoped it was due to her hormones going crazy because of her pregnancy, and not that she had turned into a vapid, lovesick girl, but she suddenly found herself sobbing into Richard's neck about how much she loved him, and what a wonderful man he was, and how she didn't know what she had done to deserve him, and did she mention that she loved him so much, and oh, he was so sweet and wonderful and kind and...and...and at that point the sobs turned into hiccups and all she could do was burrow deeper into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered how much he loved her, that she was the most wonderful woman in the world, that she was his dreams come true.

"D'ya not have a bedroom?" Owen asked. "First I walk in on ya in th' livin' room, now th' kitchen...'Tis us Irish that have a reputation for bein' free with, our, ah, _pamperin'. _I'd always heard Americans were quite prim, but here the two of y'are..."

Richard's chuckle rumbled in his chest, and through Kathleen, who was still clinging to him.

"Not, mm. Pampering," Richard replied. "She's. Inflating my, mm. Ego."

"Oh, an' I'll not be touchin' that one!" Owen said with a laugh. Kathleen, who had a rather impure mental image pass through her mind at that comment, excused herself to go wash her tear streaked face. Richard and Owen both took note of the flush in her cheeks and the fact that she had her mouth covered (they didn't know she was trying hard to not laugh, possibly cry, at the image in her mind) and shared a raised eyebrow once she was gone.

"Would you. Please set the table?" Richard asked, turning back to the stove.

Owen moved to the cupboard and grabbed the dishes.

"Yer lucky t'have her, ye know," Owen stated as he laid out the plates.

"I know," Richard said as he stirred the potatoes. "Not a, mm. Day goes by that. I don't thank. God, for her. I've never, mm. Done anything to warrant...having someone like her. Love me, like she does."

"Me brother, Peter...he didn't come over fer Christmas, an' really, ye didn't miss much by not meetin' him, truth be told he's an overly pious-prick. Anyway, he'd say that fer God t'have given ye such a treasure, He must have somethin' in mind fer ye t'earn her."

Richard nodded as he pulled the potatoes off the stove and transferred them into a serving dish. He didn't say anything, but he was afraid Owen, or in this case his brother, was right.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, I blame this little plot nugget on my friend, who watched her first episode of BWE last Sunday (hey, if you're just gonna jump in, the episode with the drawing scene is good, eh?). Anyway, a comment she made about Richard's hands when he was talking to Angela about his sister kind of stuck with me, and since we were dreadfully slow at work the day I started this, I had PLENTY of time to think. This is just a bit of filler, really. There was more of the chapter, but it got out of hand (get Richard and Owen drinking and they just become Chatty Patties!) so I split it. Will post the next chapter before to long. Hope you enjoy. Reviews always appreciated!  
><strong>

Chapter 6

On the last day of January, a delivery came for Richard. He looked at the steamer truck with puzzlement, but signed for it and took the envelope the porter handed him. After tipping the men, he looked at the envelope, noting the feminine writing.

There was no return address.

Kathleen was in the bedroom sleeping, and Owen and Meagan were at the grocer. Richard sat down in an arm chair and tore open the envelope, pulling out the paper inside. There was a key tucked inside the letter.

_Dear Richard,_

_Eli gave me your address. _

_Inside the trunk you will find the things you left behind. Jimmy wanted them destroyed. I managed to get them out of the house before he could get to them. I sent everything I could find, not knowing what you might want._

_I hear you're married now. I'm truly happy for you. It was right for you to get out when you could. I only wish I could have done the same._

_I'm scared, Richard. Jimmy made a deal with some guys in New York. They've brought heroin to the city. It's taking hold of so many people. Including Jimmy. I hardly recognize him anymore. I'm worried, and I want to take Tommy and get out of here, but I'm so afraid to leave._

_It was right of you to leave, Richard. Take Kathleen and keep going. Find a little patch of land somewhere and raise that large family you've always wanted. _

_Thank you for everything, Richard. I will remember our talks together fondly, forever._

_Angela_

Richard re-read the letter once more, then set it down on the table next to him. Poor Jimmy, he thought, clasping his hands and running one thumb along the back of the other. Richard could understand Jimmy getting hooked on heroin. If Jimmy had been given morphine when he was being treated for his injuries, and it was highly likely he had been, the heroin would be a familiar rush. Richard had never had heroin, but he well remembered how addictive morphine was.

_The way his heart would race, that he could never seem to get air into his lungs fast enough. The tremors and twitches that would start in his hands and move to the rest of his body. The aches in his body, the cramps...overwhelming him until that sweet rush flooded through him. Soothing everything, easing the horrors in his mind and body..._

If what Richard understood of heroin was right, then the euphoric feeling it gave would be similar to the relief from pain that morphine brought. And could he blame Jimmy for wanting something to relieve the pain, the stress, the feeling of being overwhelmed by everything life was throwing his way? No, he really couldn't.

But Richard looked to his wife for that. Why couldn't Jimmy do the same? Why did he have to turn to something so destructive?

Gazing out the window, Richard wondered why he cared. Jimmy had made it clear that Richard's happiness was secondary to whatever plans Jimmy had. Jimmy had just turned his back and walked away from him. So why did he care? A year ago, he wouldn't have. A year ago, he probably would have followed Jimmy into heroin addiction. But that was a year ago.

Now, he had Kathleen.

Jimmy had Angela. Jimmy had _always_ had Angela. Why didn't he see that?

Richard sighed and looked back at the trunk. He didn't feel like dealing with it at the moment. He stood and grabbed one of the handles and, although it was heavy, he managed to drag it into his office. He left it in front of his desk, then went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Kathleen.

She was laying almost, but not quite, on her side, with one hand tucked under her cheek, her hair a dark red cloud splayed across the pillow.

He wanted to ask her a question, but he didn't want to disturb her. She'd been more and more tired the past few weeks, and while she assured him it was normal to be so tired in the later months of pregnancy, he still couldn't help but worry.

He laid his hand on Kathleen's stomach and felt a slight flutter beneath his palm.

His wife. His children.

_How does it feel to have everything? _He had asked Jimmy once up on a time.

"Wonderful." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Kathleen softly asked "What's wonderful?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't, mm. Mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I was kind of awake when you came in. Are you alright?"

"I wanted to...ask you something. A few months ago. When I had,mm...that flashback. In front of the fire. I. Remember feeling. A pinch in my arm, mm." He rubbed the inside of his elbow, remembering it clearly. "Did...did you. Give me morphine?"

Kathleen's mind had still been a little muzzy from sleep, but the note of near panic in his voice brought her fully awake.

"No, Richard. I didn't," she said calmly. "To be honest, I haven't seen my kit, well I guess it's been since Atlantic City. And even if I knew where it was, and if I happened to have morphine around, I wouldn't have given it to you then. I knew you weren't in real physical pain, that it was all just...horrors coming back. And you were far enough in it that you would probably respond to the feeling of being stuck with a needle. Remember, I was sewing that loose button on your blue shirt? I grabbed the needle, and once I got your arms down, just stuck you with it. You calmed down after that. Honey, is something wrong?"

"I...got a letter from. Angela Darmody. It. Just got me, mm. Thinking." He left it at that, not wanting to go into detail and worrying her. But, being no fool, Kathleen could tell by the tone in her husband's voice that something was wrong.

"Oh? And what did Angela have to say?"

"Things are, mm. Not going quite as well. As Jimmy had hoped," was all Richard said on that subject. "She also sent. Some of the things, mm. I had left behind."

"You really miss him, don't you?"

Richard nodded, then added "But since. Angela said he, mm. Wanted to destroy my things. I guess he...doesn't feel. The same."

"I'm so sorry," Kathleen whispered. "If you hadn't met me, you'd still..."

Richard laid his fingertips gently over her lips.

"Shh," he said. "If I hadn't. Met you, I'd most likely, mm. Be dead right now. I couldn't. Be happier with...how things turned out." He removed his fingers from her lips and replaced them with his own, then leaned his forehead against hers. "Mm, Angela wrote. That Jimmy had gotten. Involved with heroin. That... Could have. Been me." He shivered at the thought. Kathleen kissed his lips softly but stayed silent. What could she say to ease him?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, so doing research on guns and Sinn Fein is a great way to make your hubby wonder what you're doing. Also, very hard to find a good source of just how Sinn Fien operated in the early 1920s, so this isn't as thorough as I had originally planned. (Okay, I probably could have found something, I just didn't really have the attention span last night. )**

Chapter 7

Richard was grading papers in his office. It was late, well past two in the morning. Kathleen was asleep, Owen and Meagan had finally stopped moaning and giggling around midnight, and Richard had heard Owen sneaking back to his own room shortly after. Richard and shook his head and gone back to the paper he'd been reading.

Now, rubbing his eye, Richard decided to call it a night. He put the papers in a neat stack, stood and stretched to ease the sore muscles in his lower back, then walked to the door. He had just opened it when he realized he forgot to turn off the desk lamp, so he turned back to his desk, and spotted the trunk Angela had sent. Suddenly curious, he fished the key out of his pocket, sat on the floor in front of the trunk, and opened it.

Some clothes lay on top, nothing he had really missed in the over eight months since he and Kathleen had boarded the first train out of Atlantic City and never looked back.

Under the clothes were some books. Some were histories, some were fiction novels that he never read but had kept because his sister had sent them. There was one book that he lifted out with a small hesitance. There was nothing exceptional about the binding. He slowly opened it and flipped through the pages. Pictures so carefully cut from newspapers and magazines flashed by. Pictures of husbands and wives, mothers, fathers, and children. Perfectly beautiful women with perfectly handsome men. Images of things he had always wanted but never thought he would ever have.

But he did have it, now. A loving wife, children on the way, a house with a fence and a yard.

Setting the book aside, he looked down into the chest. All that remained were very familiar cloth wrapped objects. He reached in and pulled the first one out, setting it in his lap and unwrapping it reverently. It was his Mauser 1914, small, easy to conceal. Not the most impressive gun he owned, but it had proven it's value more than once in close situations.

Next was the Roth-Styer. Boxy and going a good three pounds, it was a familiar weight in his hand.

Ah, and there she was. The gun that had been through thick and thin with him. Be it a blind in a German forest, or a shabby room across the street from a diner in Chicago. Until Kathleen, the one thing in life that had never let him down.

"Does Aunt Kathleen know yer so lovin'ly caressin' that Springfield?"

Richard looked up from the rifle in his hands and saw Owen in the door.

"Enfield...1917, mm. The Springfield is...shorter. And lighter. Slightly shorter accuracy distance. Mm. The rear aperture on. The Springfield is...to far forward for. Effective use, and the front. Site is to small...to use in poor light,mm. The... Enfield doesn't have those. Problems. The Enfield is also,mm. Constructed better. " He ran his hands along the cool, smooth metal of the barrel. "It didn't happen to. Many of us. But occasionally, a Springfield that had...been forged to rapidly, combined with. Poorly made brass casings. Could lead to, mm. The receiver exploding back. On us. Mm."

"Ah, an' so that's how 't happened," Owen replied softly, unconsciously touching the left side of his face. Richard nodded, and settled the rifle back in it's wrapping, carefully covering it up again and setting in back in the chest.

"What are, mm. You doing up. This late? Going back, mm. To Meagan?"

"Ah...no. Why would ye think that?" he asked innocently

Richard raised his eyebrows and said, in his gravelly, flat voice "Oh. Oh. Mm. Oh Owen. Oh Owen. Mm"

Owen grinned, but blushed none the less. " 'Tis true she's a vocal lass," he said by way of admission.

"You're being, mm...smart about it?" Richard asked, realizing he was getting paternal with a man who was almost a year older than himself.

"Aye. She's takin' precautions. 'Tisn't a conversation either a us wanna have with our parents. Not ta mention, Meagan's fairly certain she'd be fired if she turned up pregnant."

"Mm. I doubt that. Very much," Richard replied. "Kathleen isn't...like that." Richard waved Owen into his office, then began tossing things back into the chest.

"So, what, mm. Are you doing up. This late, if you're. Not going to..."

"If I'm no' gonna have another toss with Meagan?" Owen asked with a laugh. "I was thirsty, so I was on me way to th' kitchen when I saw yer light was still on. Jus' wanted ta make sure yer alright."

"I'm fine," Richard said, standing and moving behind his desk and opening the lowest drawer. He reached in and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. "Thirsty, hmm?" He said as he held it up to show Owen. Owen's face split into a broad grin.

"Saints bless yer name. Yer a good man, Richard Harrow."

Richard and Owen drank. They didn't get completely drunk, but they drank enough to relax and flow into a conversation centered mostly about Owen. Richard discovered that Owen had been a livestock inspector in Ireland, and while it was indeed true that he fell in love with the rolling hills of Kentucky, and the sight of the horses running through the fog in the early mornings and that was part of the reason he wanted to stay, yes there was indeed more to the story.

"There's some b'ys back home," Owen slurred, his accent thick now that he wasn't concentrating on speaking clearly, "got themsel's involved wit' th' movement ta git the British outta Ireland. An' well, soma these b'ys're friends o' mine. An' I sorta fell in wit' 'em. Learned all sorts a handy stuff. Di'ja know I can...I can make a bomb fer almos' any situation? 'Tis true! And, pretty much wha' got me in trouble... there's this constable station in Tipperary. Well, there **was...** " Owen told how he had some of his 'friends' had blown up the constable station, killed quite a few British soldiers, one of which was the nephew of some Lord in the British parliament. Someone identified Owen and a couple of other men. "An' so there's a bounty on me head," Owen concluded. " 'Twas agreed that I'd be best off movin' away. An' so, here I am."

"Did you. Believe in what you, mm. Were fighting for?"

"Aye," Owen said. " 'Tisn't a point in fightin' if ye don' believe in 't."


	8. Chapter 8

February and March seemed to fly by for everyone but Kathleen. She had gotten so large in her last couple months of pregnancy that she could barely move. She spent most of her time laying in bed reading. Richard had brought her all the books Angela had packed, and while the histories were somewhat dry, the novels kept her entranced for hours. By the first of March she was quite ready to no longer be pregnant. She grew irritable at not being able to do anything, and while Meagan was proving her worth around the house, it was driving Kathleen crazy that she had to be waited on hand and foot. She even needed help getting out of bed to go to the bathroom! And for someone who made her living as a care-giver, suddenly being on the receiving end of it was infuriating.

March 16th started off as a nice, almost springlike day. Despite the bite of winter when the wind kicked up, the sun was shining, and there was that scent in the air that hinted at green things ready to blossom. Richard was at work. Meagan was in the kitchen, baking corn bread by the smell of it. Owen was outside. In spite of the chill in the air, He was washing the used Ford he had recently bought. Kathleen thought it was an impulse buy, but when Owen said "Well, if'n ye go inta labor in th' middle o' the night, I can jus' drive ye to th' hospital." she admitted there was some logic to it. She had just finished reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Kathleen leaned her head against the headboard and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun as it streamed In through the window. She was starting to doze off when she felt a slight twinge in her belly. Assuming it was one of the babies trying to get comfortable she laid her hand on her vastly huge stomach and said "I know you're not comfortable. I'm certainly not comfortable. So whenever you're ready to join us..." Another twinge occurred. It wasn't exactly painful but it was far from the most pleasant sensation Kathleen had ever experienced. She stretched out, thinking that would ease things. And for a time, it did. She lightly dozed but never quite fell asleep.

The twinges soon increased in intensity and frequency. "Um,Owen?" Kathleen called as she tried to maneuver herself into a sitting position. "OWEN!" He dashed into the bedroom and saw his aunt struggling to sit up. "Need ta go ta th' bathroom?" he asked with a grin as he grabbed her hands and pulled her to feet. "No. I need to go to the hospital. My water just broke.

Richard was in the middle of a lecture to his last class of the day when the door to his classroom slammed open.

He paused in mid-sentence and looked up to see Owen in the doorway, trying to contain a grin but failing. "I'm sorry t'interrupt, Mr. Harrow, but I jus' dropped yer wife at th' hospital. She asked that I come get ye. Somethin' about ye mebbe wantin' ta be there when the babies come?" Richard blinked at him for a minute while his mind processed the key words in that sentence.

Wife.

Hospital.

Babies.

"Oh." he finally said as realization dawned. He turned to his class. "Read...something. Write a paper. Class, mm. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>Richard spent the next three hours pacing in front of the room they had put Kathleen in. They would not let him into the room, claiming that his anxiety would lead to complications in her labor. They told him he could wait in the waiting room. He told them he would wait outside the door.<p>

Twice, when Kathleen sounded like she was in terrible pain, Richard had opened the door to go to her. And twice, a portly nurse rushed to the door, shooed him away, and closed it. The third time he did it, she told him that if he poked his nose into the room one more time, she would have him thrown out of the hospital.

"But, mm. That's my wife," he said, trying to push past her. But she was having none of it.

"Well I'm glad you did it in the right order," she said, firmly planting herself and becoming quite impassable. "But you are not coming in here. Now, go away. This will all take longer if I have to keep coming to this door every two minutes." With that, she firmly shut the door in Richard's face.

" 'Twon't take any longer," Owen said from his spot by the window. "It'll take as long as it takes. I think ye should keep tryin' ta get in, jus' ta fluster th'old biddy."

Richard grunted and continued to pace. He checked his watch, saw it had only been ten minutes since he had last looked at it. So he paced some more.

He was at the furthest point from Kathleen's door when it suddenly burst open. He turned quickly, expecting news. He could still hear Kathleen's cries, and when he saw the blockading nurse glaring at him from the door, he expected the worst.

"Just making sure you're not up to something," she said before she ducked back into the room and shut the door again.

"Don't ye wish ye'd gone with a midwife?" Owen asked. "Ye'd be getting' nasty looks from yer own bedroom."

"Mm. You going to argue. With your aunt. The nurse, on...mm, matters of health care?"

"Certainly not while she's in there...whadd'ya call that sound? 'S not a scream, or a grunt... me humor isn't helpin' ye relax any..."

Richard paced.

Another hour passed.

And another.

Richard glanced at his watch. It was past midnight. Kathleen had been in labor for over six hours. Six wretched hours in which Richard could do nothing to help her.

Richard walked back to the door of her room, almost put his hand on the doorknob, but instead leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds from within. Every time Kathleen gave a cry, he clenched his fists to resist the urge to fling the door open and rush into the room to be at her side.

"You're doing wonderfully, Mrs. Harrow," Richard heard through the door. "I know you're tired, but you can do it. It should be over soon! That's it, give another push!"

Richard heard Kathleen grunt, then take a deep, pain riddled breath.

"Ok! Perfect! Now, relax for a minute..."

"I CAN'T RELAX!" Kathleen yelled, which prompted Richard to smile on the other side of the door in spite of his worry. "I'M IN LABOR!" _That's my love, _he thought. She had no tolerance for stupidity.

"Now don't get upset, dear." Richard identified the voice as that of the nurse that kept blocking him.

"DON'T TELL ME NOT TO GET UPSET, YOU COW!"

That wasn't entirely the Kathleen he knew and loved. She rarely resorted to childish name calling. But, if he were in her position, he was certain he'd be using far worse language than 'Cow'.

"Ok, Mrs. Harrow...deep breath...and push."

Richard listened, silently encouraging Kathleen, praying that everything was going well.

"Alright Mrs. Harrow...this is is...ready...and BIG PUSH!"

Richard heard Kathleen bear down, the particular straining groan she gave tearing at his heart. He strangely felt guilty for putting her into a position of so much pain. She had admitted, back on their honeymoon, that she had never really wanted children. 'But then again,' she admitted 'I never planned on getting married, either.' She had turned to face him, her eyes shining as she gazed at him. 'You've changed my mind on a lot of things, though, Mr. Harrow.'...

It was then that Richard heard the first wail of a newborn baby. His newborn...he almost rushed in right then and there, but he restrained himself. He pulled out his watch. It's was 12:12 am.

Kathleen gave birth to their second child at 12:21.

They finally let Richard into the room an hour later. He entered slowly, almost shyly. The first thing he saw was Kathleen, who looked sweaty and tired and pale but more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She smiled at him, then down at the bundle in her arms.

Richard moved to the bedside. A nurse that he hadn't noticed because he was too enthralled with Kathleen stepped beside him.

"Take our daughter, Richard," Kathleen said with a smile. Her voice was tired, but there was a satisfied note to it, as well there should have been.

"Our daughter," Richard whispered as he took the tightly wrapped baby into his arms. He gazed down at the tiny face, still red and scrunched, but truly the most remarkable thing he'd ever seen.

"And here's our son," Kathleen said, nodding to her arms.

Richard gazed at his wife and his children. If he had been any happier, he was certain his heart would give out.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing Kathleen tenderly. "This is, mm. The most remarkable. Day of my life."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, the last bit of disgustingly sweet Harrow interaction. I had to do this because I feel SO bad about what's going to happen in an upcoming chapter. **

Chapter 9**  
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Every morning, Richard helped Kathleen with the babies, holding one while she nursed the other, changing diapers, snuggling them each for a few moments before he went to work. And every evening when he came home, after he kissed Kathleen, he would hurry to the nursery and held one, then the other, gazing down at them, a smile on his face. He was afraid that if, he didn't hold tight to them, lay eyes on them every moment he could, they would disappear, as if they were nothing but a dream. They were so beautiful, his son and his daughter. His dark hair, Kathleen's blue eyes. It was too early to determine who either of them favored, but sometime when he gazed down at his daughter's face, he could imagine his little angel with the splash of freckles across her nose, just like her mother.

It was Richard referring to her as 'his little angel' that ultimately led to their daughter's name, Angelica Sarah. It was a nice compromise, since they couldn't agree on Odette or Margaret. Plus, Richard had an Aunt Angelica on his dad's side of the family, although he hadn't seen her in years.

Kathleen would watch her husband coo at their children, think about the night they first met, and smile about how far they had come in the past year. From holding a gun, to holding his son. From killing people to telling his daughter he would kill anyone who hurt her as she grew older. And Kathleen herself, who had never wanted the traditional family life, found herself so overwhelmed with happiness that sometimes she wondered why her heart hadn't exploded yet.

On May 20th, before Richard left for work, he caught Kathleen in his arms and gave her a long, tender kiss.

"We're going. Out tonight, mm. For our anniversary."

"Oh, are we?" Kathleen asked, needlessly adjusting his tie.

"Mm-hmm," Richard replied. "Owen and Meagan. Will watch Eli and Angel. While you and I." In lieu of words, Richard began kissing the spot on Kathleen's neck that always started her pulse racing. He could feel her digging her fingers into his shoulders as she inhaled deeply. He flicked his tongue out and ran it along her throat, the quickly stepped back, favoring her with a teasing grin.

"I'm going, mm. To be late. For work. I love you." Kathleen regarded him with wide, slightly glazed eyes.

"You are a mean man, Richard Harrow," Kathleen said breathlessly. He chuckled, and promised to be a very nice man later, then grabbed his hat and walked out the door.

Kathleen spent the rest of the day strangely on edge. She didn't realize how much she missed her husband's touch until he started kissing her neck. Owen and Meagan watched her more or less stalk around the house, sharing a conspiratorial smile between themselves...they knew what Richard had planned for the evening.

Around two in the afternoon, Owen disappeared for an hour. When he returned he handed Kathleen a box.

"Fer t'night," he said. "Go get ready. I'm ta drop you off at fer dinner at six."

Kathleen took the box to the bedroom and set it on the bed. She opened it, first seeing a single red rose laying on the tissue paper. There was a small note tied to the stem.

_For the first wonderful year_

the note said. Kathleen smiled, inhaled the scent of the rose, then set it aside and turned back the flaps of the tissue paper. She gasped and pulled out the dress. It was a deep sapphire blue, off the shoulder, with beautiful bead work along the bodice. She laid it out carefully on the bed, ran her hands along the satin skirt, and hoped to hell she had lost enough baby weight to fit into it.

She took a long bath, using the lavender soap Anne had given her as part of her Christmas gift. She pinned her hair up, leaving a few wisps free to frame her face. Silk stocking that she had gotten in Paris but had never had an occasion to wear, a strapless brassiere, then...the moment of truth...the dress. She called Meagan in to help fasten it in the back.

"Oh Mrs. Harrow, you're stunning!" Meagan said as she closed the last hook over the zipper. Kathleen looked at herself in the mirror and had to agree with Meagan. She _did _look wonderful. And as a woman who knew she wasn't a beauty, she could truly appreciate the magic of the dress.

Owen whistled when he saw his aunt. "If'n we weren't related, and if'n I wasn't so taken with this bonny lass," he said as he put his arm around Meagan's waist, "and if'n I didn't think yer husband'd kill me in a heartbeat, I'd be after ye, sure as a shamrock brings luck."

Kathleen felt herself blush.

"Are you sure you two will be okay with the babies?" Kathleen asked. "I don't know if you'll be able to get a hold of us if something goes wrong..."

"Nothing will go wrong, Mrs. Harrow," Meagan said.

"An' we know what's goin' on," Owen said. "Richard planned this wit' us, knowin' ye'd be nervous leavin' the babes. Now don' worry. Meagan's spent plenty o' time wit' wee ones, an I helped Mum wit' me brudders an' sisters. Now c'mon, else ye'll be late fer yer anniversary date."

Kathleen took a deep breath and walked with Owen to his car. He opened up the back door for her.

"In ye go," he said with a grin. Kathleen slid in, and found two red roses sitting on the back seat.

_Just the two of us, tonight._

Kathleen felt tears welling in her eyes and did her best to keep them from falling. She'd never known her husband was such a romantic.

Owen dropped Kathleen off at the restaurant. Richard was waiting outside, looking debonair in his best suit. He helped Kathleen out of the car, bid Owen goodnight, and arm in arm, the Harrows went in for their first anniversary dinner. The maitre d' led them to a small alcove in the back of the dining room. It was lit with candles, and a small screen slid across ensured their complete privacy.

"This is fancy," Kathleen commented as Richard held her chair out for her.

"It occurred to me that. We never, mm. Actually had a date."

"We did have that night at the Darmodys'..."

"Mm, I don't think. Dates are supposed to end. With being shot at."

"Not usually, as far as I know," Kathleen replied. "You don't have anything like that planned for tonight I hope."

Richard took her hand in his and, turning it palm up, gently brushed his fingers along the inside of her wrist. She shuddered at the sensuality of his touch. The glimmer in his eye told her he did indeed have something explosive in mind for the evening, just nothing dangerously explosive.

They ate a dinner far fancier than either of them quite knew what to make of, and that they couldn't quite classify as good so much as interesting.

After dinner, they walked down the street to the theater, where they watched a Rudolph Valentino/ Gloria Swanson melodrama that Kathleen couldn't quite get into, because she had never been able to sit long enough for movies anyway. Plus, she wasn't entirely sure what all the fuss over Valentino was. He certainly wasn't as handsome as Richard.

The fact that Richard was teasingly caressing her neck, her hands, and her knees might have contributed to her inability to focus on the movie. She would occasionally glance over at him, only to find him looking back at her from the corner of his eye, a small, devilish smile on his lips.

"You're making it very hard for me to watch this drabble," Kathleen whispered in his ear. "Either knock it off, or let's leave and go home."

"I thought, mm. Women love Valentino?"

"They can have Valentino," Kathleen murmured."I have you." She nibbled on his earlobe, not caring that the armrest was digging into her ribs.

Richard gave a moments thought to this situation then said hoarsely "Let's go." They hurried out of the theater and out onto the street. Kathleen turned left but Richard tugged her in the other direction. "But the house is that way"

"We're not...going to the house," Richard said. "Come on."

Perplexed, Kathleen followed him down Main Street. He led her to a hotel.

"Mr. Harrow. Good evening," the man behind the counter said. "Everything is ready, as you requested." He handed Richard a key and directed them up to the fourth floor and down the hall to the right. Kathleen followed Richard, wondering what he had 'requested'. All she could do was wonder because when she asked Richard just said "You'll see."

Richard unlocked the door and opened it, then turned to Kathleen and scooped her up into his arms, eliciting a surprised shriek from her, and carried her into the room. He kicked the door shut behind him and carried her to the bed. He had planned on just laying her down and implementing the rest of his plans, but Kathleen pulled him down on top of her and kissed him fiercely, trying hard to get his jacket off.

"You're. Ruining my plans. For this evening," Richard said trying to pull away.

"Did your plans for this evening involve us naked on this bed having sex?" Kathleen asked as she loosened his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Well yes. But..."

"Then I'm not ruining them. Just revising." She gave up on trying to unbutton and just stared popping them off with her nails. Richard grabbed her hands on pinned them down on the bed. The frantic lustful gleam in her eyes excited him beyond measure and he was tempted to just give in and take her. But he wanted this evening to be perfect. He wanted her to have a romantic night. He wanted her to understand how much he loved and valued her.

"I've always, mm. Been a romantic." he admitted as he shifted his grip and pulled himself and Kathleen into a sitting position. "I just. Always had an imagine, mm. In my mind, about how I would. Treat my wife. And...when I was in. The hospital and. Later when, mm. I lived in Atlantic City. I used to imagine what if. What if I had a wife. Who loved me in spite. Of what I look like. I had all these mm, ideas and...fantasies of. What I would do for her." He looked deep into her eyes and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "Ways that I could...show her how much. I love her and how, mm. Greatly I appreciate that she loves me. For so long. I was alone...with only these images. I didn't, mm. Think I could love anyone enough. To makes them true. Mm, but then. I met you, and my what if. Became real." He paused to find just the right words. "I tell you everyday that, mm. I love you. But sometimes. I want to show you. Mm, I know...you're content with practical gifts. But you deserve. To be spoiled a little. There are so, mm. Many things you do, every day. That I don't think you realize you do, on top. Of everything else. No matter. How much you protest," he said, placing a finger over her lips when she opened her mouth to do just that. "I will occasionally do. Things like this...just. Mm, just because I want to. I know I don't have to. But that's, mm, what makes it...so meaningful."

He gently cupped the back of her head with his and brought his lips to hers.

Kathleen melted under his kiss, so moved by his words she had to fight to keep tears from falling. She didn't think she could ever give name to the emotion she felt...it was a light, warm tumble of so many things. She sometimes forgot how dark things were for Richard before they had met. He was so content now that she could barely imagine how unhappy he must have been.

"Oh Richard," she whispered as he slowly ended the kiss. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She wanted to say 'I love you' but it suddenly seemed so inadequate for how she felt right then.

"Did I, mm. Leave you speechless again?" Kathleen nodded. Richard grinned slightly and gave a satisfied nod of his head before standing up and walking deeper into the room. Kathleen watched him, noticing for the first time a room service cart under the window. Richard walked to this, and first pulled a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. He deftly popped the cork and poured two champagne flutes full. Then, grabbing the glasses with one hand and a covered dish in the other, he cam back to the bed. He set the dish on the night stand and removed the cover.

"Just like our honeymoon," Kathleen said with a smile as she saw the bowl of fresh strawberries and the bowl of cream.

"Just like our honeymoon," Richard agreed as he sat down next to her and handed her one of the glasses. They toasted by simply saying I love you, took a sip of their champagne, then Richard reached for one of the strawberries, dipped it in cream, and held it to Kathleen's lips. She bit into it, the juice shimmering redly on her lips. Richard leaned in and licked her lips, tasting the sweetness of the berry, the cool cream combined with the taste that wholly Kathleen.

That started the slow play that lead them to kiss, drink, nibble, slowly undress one another. It became a slow, sensuous game, the delightful torture of arousal and desire. They touched, tasted, teased one another to heart pounding levels. When Richard finally entered her, he did so slowly, mindful that it might be uncomfortable for her. But she gave no indication that it was, quite the opposite, in fact. She lifted her hips to meet him, and they began making love slowly, passionately.

Between bouts of passion they indulged in the champagne, nibbled on the strawberries and cream. They drew a bath at one point, and even tried to make love there. All they succeeded in doing was \ covering the bathroom floor with water, nearly drowning, and giving themselves a fit of champagne-induced giggles.

It was nearly dawn before they collapsed with exhaustion. Kathleen curled up against Richard's side, her head resting on his chest. She listened to the sound of his heartbeat as it slowed from post-orgasmic pounding to its gentle, even thud of sleep. Content and sated, Kathleen let that sound lull her to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_The sky was leaden. Flashes of lighting cut through the clouds, and gave shape to the gruesome field before him. Thunder rumbled, blending and clashing with the sounds of artillery fire and the shouts of men at war. _

_Richard stood away from it all, perfectly calm in the midst of this hell storm. Nothing could touch him here. He watched in a state of total detachment as a grenade came towards him, knowing that it would fall short. It landed in a trench twenty feet ahead, causing a geyser of dirt and blood and mangled body parts to rise into the air as the tortured screams of the wounded rang out._

_Richard could feel the weight his his Enfield slung over his shoulder. He peered as best he could into smoke shrouded dimness ahead, wondering if he could pinpoint where he would soon be sent. _

_Something black fluttered in Richard's peripheral vision. He turned his head to the left and found death hovering at his side. Torn black robes fluttered in a wind that did not exist, and the chill of death pressed against Richard. He watched calmly as the reaper slowly extended one skeletal hand, but not toward Richard. Richard looked where the hand was pointing. It was as if he were a bird, flying high and fast over the ground below, the way it zipped past below him. He abruptly stopped, hovering above an oh-so-familiar beach house on the Atlantic shore..._

Richard jerked awake, then held perfectly still, mindful of Kathleen draped across his chest. He held still and tried to calm his racing heart. Kathleen shifted and peered up at him.

"Go, mm. Back to sleep," he said as soothingly as he could at that moment.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she brushed her hair out of her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about. What?"

"The dream you just had that woke you up so suddenly with your heart pounding." He turned so he could actually see her. She preferred to sleep on his left side, despite the fact that he feared he would drool all over her from the mangled side of his mouth. She said she didn't care about that at all, and she preferred his left side because his heart beat helped her sleep, and she couldn't hear it as well curled up against his right side.

Richard didn't want to talk about it. But he knew Kathleen would keep worrying if he didn't say something.

"It was. Just an old war dream," he said. He wanted to tell her it was nothing to worry about but that would be the fastest way to get her to worry. He watched her eyebrows knit with concern anyway. "It wasn't. A scary dream," he said. "It. Made me feel calm."

"Then why did your heart start racing?"

Richard did something he had never done before. He lied to Kathleen. "Because the. Dream ended, with you. Mm, naked. Begging me to. Have my way. With you." Kathleen didn't buy that at all, but she didn't want to press the matter and risk upsetting him. "Well then," she said as moved to straddle him. "Let me make that dream come true..."

* * *

><p>Richard continued to have the nightmare off and on over the next few months. Whenever he woke up from it, he found Kathleen looking at him with concern. He would distract her by making love to her. And while she had no problem with that, she did have a problem with the fact that he wouldn't tell her what was really bothering him. She felt hurt that he wouldn't confide in her. But feeling hurt made her feel bad because Richard didn't HAVE to tell her everything that weighed on his mind. But he always had before, which made this situation all the more frustrating for her. She wanted to ease whatever was weighing so heavily on his mind, but she couldn't because he wouldn't tell her. These thoughts chased circles in her head, and led even worse thoughts, which fed on themselves and gave birth to even worse scenarios in her mind. Finally on early September morning, after Richard had gone to work and the twins were down for a nap and Meagan went to the market and Owen was out doing God only knew what, Kathleen sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee she couldn't bring herself to drink and cried. She did her best to keep her sobbing quiet so as not to disturb the children, but the tears flowed like a waterfall and her breathing was hitched none the less. She buried her face in her arms and let everything flow out. That was how Owen found her twenty minutes into her sob session.<p>

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately as he sat down beside her and drew her into his arms.

"I think Richard doesn't love me anymore!" she wailed into his shoulder. That wasn't at all what Owen was expecting.

"What makes ye say that?" he asked calmly.

"Because he won't tell me what's wrong! He keeps having these dreams that wake him up in the middle of the night but whenever I ask him about them he just...makes love to me instead of telling me what the dreams are about and he always used to tell me everything and now he's not telling me about this and I can't think of any other reason why he wouldn't tell me except that he doesn't love me."

Owen gave her a moment to calm down before he said "I'm fairly certain he's still in love wit' ye. Jus' judgin' by the fact that he kisses ye goodbye every morn and says 'I love ye' an' every night when he comes home he kisses ye an' says it again. Have ye no' seen the way he looks at ye whenever ye walk into a room? His face lights up like he's seein a miracle." Owen pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his aunt. "I don' know fer certain, but mebbe he's not tellin' ye 'cause he don' want ye ta worry. Of course, he should know ye well enough ta know ye'll jus' worry all the more if'n ye don' know what 'tis yer no' s'posed ta be worryin' bout." Kathleen wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She felt better, not only for the cry but because what Owen said made sense.

"You're probably right," she admitted at last. "I just wish he would tell me."

"I understand," Owen said. "But ye need ta look at 't from his point a view..."

"I know...I know. It's just not that easy. I want to fix it. I want to make it better."

"Jus' give him time. I'm sure he'll come 'round." And Owen planned to make sure that he did.

* * *

><p>Richard came home from work that evening to find only Owen in the house. Kathleen and Meagan had taken the twins out for a walk.<p>

"Which gives us a good opportunity to talk," Owen said. "About th' fact that I came home earlier ta find me aunt sobbing at the kitchen table, near convinced ya don' love her anymore!" he had started out calmly, but his temper started to shine through as he went on.

"Why would. She think that?" Richard asked, puzzled. "Did I forget. To tell her, mm. this morning?"

"No, ye told her. An' gave her a kiss ta got wit' it. 'Tis what yer no' tellin' her that's eatin' her up. She thinks tha' since yer no' tellin' her about th' dreams yer havin' ye don' love her anymore. I tol' her ye prob'ly jus' didna want ta worry her wit' it. But ye oughtta know her well enough ta know she'll jus' worry more."

Richard shrank in on himself as he listened to Owen. There was nothing he could say in his defense...he truly had been trying to keep Kathleen from worrying, but now he saw that he'd been wrong to do so. He didn't think she would see his reluctance to tell her as lack of love for her on his part.

"Have ye noticed, she likes ta fix things? Mostly, th' people she cares fer. It's drivin' her nuts that she canno' help ye."

"I don't think. Mm, she can help me," Richard said finally. "I think I'm, mm. Losing my mind."

"Well, I'm no help fer ye there. I decided ye were bat-shit insane a while ago," Owen replied cheekily. Richard looked at him, not amused at all. Owen realized right then that his uncle by marriage was a pathetic wreck at that moment.

"I'm sorry," Owen said. "That was uncalled fer. I really do think ye oughtta talk ta Aunt Kathleen. At least one o' ye'll feel better."

Richard was sitting on the porch steps when Kathleen and Meagan came up the walk with the twins.

"Please take the children inside and give them their bath, Meagan," Kathleen said when she saw Richard. Richard stood and helped get the strollers up the porch, held the door open while Meagan went through, then made sure they were firmly shut before he turned back to face Kathleen. She stood at the base of the steps, looking up at him.

"Owen and I had, mm. A talk earlier" Richard said as he moved to sit back down on the steps. Kathleen couldn't remember the last time she saw him looking so nervous. Where his lean frame normally conveyed a quiet grace, now he seemed more gangly and awkward. The way he sat, with his feet on the step right below the top, his hands rubbing nervously on his knees, and his shoulders stooped, made Kathleen want to hug him and feed him soup, even though she knew he couldn't eat it. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to have this conversation, fearing that Richard was about to confirm her fears. But she sat down beside him anyway, neither of them looking at the other. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long while, Richard working up the nerve to speak, Kathleen at a loss for what to say.

"I used to. Have these dreams, back. When I was in. The army." Richard said finally, his voice held a note of something Kathleen couldn't quite place. "They always started the same...mm I'm standing. On a battlefield. There's a storm brewing. In the sky, like God is about to. Mm, unleash his wrath on the world. I see men that. I know dying all around me. Grenades explode, and gunfire is everywhere. I can hear screaming...all around. The ground is wet.. With all the blood ...That's been spilled. I know,mm I should feel something...fear, horror, sadness. But there's nothing. Only this...cold detachment. I stand there. And watch all this death around me. And, mm I wait. These dreams only. Came to me shortly before. I had to kill someone. As I stand there, I see something. On my left. And when I turn to face it. It's the Grim Reaper. He'll move beside me and, mm, point. I look in. The direction he's pointing. And I feel myself...flying...over the landscape. I see every detail. And when I stop, I see. Where the person I have to kill. Will be. I didn't, mm...think too much of it. The first time I had the dream. I thought it was. Just a nightmare. We were all. Mm, suffering from them at this point. I remember thinking. Maybe it was...my own death being foreshadowed."

He paused to swallow, and when he continued, he told Kathleen about how, within a week of each dream, he would find himself in the exact spot the dream showed him, and how a total detachment would settle over him when he reached that spot, and how each time, someone died at Richard's hand.

He didn't give the details of the deaths, he would spare her that horror, but he explained that with each dream, that detachment would stay with him longer, until finally it never really lifted.

"Mm, I got to the point where. I just went from place to place. Looking for the next spot that. Mm, I was supposed to be. It...always happened like it, mm. Showed in my dreams. Except...mm, the last one. In these dreams, I, mm. Always had my Enfield in my hands. And, mm. I always had my Enfield in my hands. Whenever I...actually killed someone. Like the dream showed. But the last time. Mm, I had a Springfield in my hands. I..don't remember why, anymore. I didn't, mm. Think it would matter."

Kathleen knew what had happened next. Richard had peered over the top of the trench he was hunkered down in, spotted a German soldier standing up to lob a grenade towards the American soldiers. Richard aimed, fired...and the gun exploded in his face.

"One thing I've always wondered," Kathleen said when Richard paused to clear his throat. "You're right handed, which I assume means you would...what do you call it...sight down the gun? With your right eye, right?" Richard nodded. "But, it was the left side of your face that was injured..." She trailed off.

"Mm...I thought I heard. Someone call my name. Right at the,mm. Last second. It was a woman's voice, I thought. Mm. Maybe my sister's. It was enough, mm, to override all the training. I had gone through. It...mm, might be the thing. That save my life. If I hadn't, mm. Turned my head. The shrapnel. Probably would have gone. Through both eyes, mm. Into my brain." He shrugged, as it didn't matter any more why he turned his head when he did, or how he had survived.

"After that, mm. I was. Still empty, inside. Even though I didn't have the, mm. Dreams anymore. Until the night. Mm. Of our anniversary." A shudder ran down Richard's back. Unconsciously, Kathleen moved a little closer to him, offering what comfort she could in a situation she didn't fully understand.

"It was, mm. Just like it always was. But, the place. Death was pointing..." Richard could barely say the words. "I, mm. I think...I'm supposed to kill Jimmy."


End file.
